I hear your quiet calling,
Those silent screams
That teach me how to sing in
Whispers and mumbles of
Inner streams bubbling over
Outer rocks and stones.
From behind the veil of time
I still hear your voice squeaking
Like mice in a barn
And your eyes little faint
Blue holes in a blanket.
I stare over the side, at the sea
And in the blue, like your
Eyes, I am
Terrified by its immensity.
Your brazen Sun
Burns but
Freckles me.
And in that hot
Pain
There is health
Or death. I cannot tell which.
Wind, whipping
Words that chap my
Face while singing me
A song of movement
And grinding metal.
Your breeze
Lyrics like pavement
And salt-rot.
I can taste you in
Seawater
And cheap whiskey.
